


Mornings Like This

by ghettoassenglishman



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Daddy Gallavich, Daddy Ian, Daddy Mickey, Fluff, M/M, More Fluff, Mornings, Yevgeny is the cutest baby ever, did you say fluff?, might be a little ooc but oh well, set six months into the future - or in my dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:49:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3499052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A couple of minutes later, Ian had demolished the contents in his own bowl and Yev was playing Javelin with his. After dumping their bowls in the sink, and cleaning the surface of the high-chair, he lifted Yev over to the couch and laid him down against the cushions. “Right Yev, we can either do this the hard way or the easy way.”</p><p> </p><p>Set six months into the future; Ian, Mickey's and Yev's morning routine; Getting up, eating, waking Mickey up on the ass-crack of dawn just to piss him off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mornings Like This

**Author's Note:**

> So I really, really want a cute iccle fic of their morning so I made one. aw. Little Yev is so fucking cute
> 
> errors will be sorted when I can be bothered tonight through my revision lol

Ian woke up to his boyfriend of five and a half years – six months after they had a major fall back, but things have gotten itself together, they had their feet tangled together in the mess of the sheets, both of their bodies stuck together. Mickey's head was tucked against Ian's chest, his breath tickling against the skin. Ian huffed a hoarse laugh because Mickey had always been a softie at heart, despite his protests that argued otherwise.

 

Both butt naked, the sun shone through the cracked blinds, that Ian had broke chucking shoes at Mickey during an argument they had a while back, they caused Ian to moan into a whine as it caught through his opening eyes. Even though sleeping in with Mickey, holding him and basking in his scent, seemed enduring – their kid was crying from the other room, a distant “Dada!” coming from down the hall.

 

Ian pulled himself up from around Mickey, gently pressing the deep-sleeper against the pillows. Then lifting the blanket and throwing it over Mickey, he scanned the floor for a decent sized pair of sweats. Quickly, admiring the God's send sprawled in their bed, he pulled on the pants and stalked towards their crying son.

 

Once he reached Mandy's room – now that she was living with Lip and Svetlana moved in with Nika, letting Yev stay for five nights a week basically meant him having his own room at the house – He saw Yev bouncing at the bars of his crib and Ian immediately opened his arms adoringly. The little boy imitated the gesture, hands gripping to the air with a pleading look against his face. Ian couldn't contain his smile, Yev reminded him more of Mickey each day.

 

“Why you crying, little man?” Ian cooed as he pulled the little boy into his arms, brushing his fingers through the dark-black hair that had recently formed against the babies scalp. “You hungry?” he bounced Yev against his hip.

 

Ian took Yevgeny's little pout as a yes and shifted him higher against his side. Passing his and Mickey's room he made sure the door was shut, ever-so-slightly. - Mickey would kill his ass for spoiling his Saturday morning lie in – Then he effortlessly, and tiredly brought the little boy into the kitchen.

 

“How about...some Poptarts? Maybe I can crush them up.” Ian suggested, as he placed Yevgeny into his high-chair, kissing his head and began to open up some cabinets. “Wait, can I even feed you that?” Obviously the grinning baby would agree, everyone loved Poptarts. “Shit, there's like two left and Mickey would kill us both, well more me than you. You're too cute.” he tickled underneath Yev's neck, causing him to giggle like crazy.

 

“Let's just stick to Cheerio's, yeh?” Ian grabbed the box from the cabinet, getting two small, plastic bowls and pouring the circular morning food into them. Ian took the milk, that had been left outside the fridge _again,_ and poured it over the cereal. Taking his pills from the plastic tub, he downed them with a glass of water. - It was still hard to take them, sometimes, but it seemed easier day by day, especially with the help of Mickey.

 

“These make you strong, just like your grumpy daddy in there.” Ian laughed, nodding to the bedroom door Mickey was lying behind. Yev giggled, watching as Ian put his own bowl down and pulled out a chair to sit infront of the little boy. “Open up.”

 

Yev clapped his hands together, a spit bubble popping against his little lips, laughing as Ian pulled ridiculous faces towards him. “Papa!” he continued to babble out, something Ian would never get tired of hearing. He thought it was was so, so cute how Yev had decided his own names for everyone. Mickey was 'dada', Ian was 'papa', Svetlana was 'mama' and Nika was 'Nini' – not to forget the best one, Iggy was called 'noodle' and no one had any idea why. It was even more cute that he had four parents, the lucky sod was loving it too.

 

Ian scooped up a small amount against the plastic baby spoon and lifted it up. “You going to open that cheeky mouth of yours for the aeroplane?” He whizzed the spoon in the air, making the worst impression of an engine in his whole life, and parked it outside Yev's open mouth. “You want it?”

 

The little boy sniggered, slapping his hands against Ian's hand, trying to grab the spoon by himself. With Ian's help, they both guided it to his mouth. He hummed against the cheerios, making Ian chuckle to himself, loudly. “You chew any louder your dad is gonna run in here asking me where the Earthquake came from.” Ian rose an eyebrow, receiving a some-what devious Mickey-glare from Yev.

 

A couple of minutes later, Ian had demolished the contents in his own bowl and Yev was playing Javelin with his. After dumping their bowls in the sink, and cleaning the surface of the high-chair, he lifted Yev over to the couch and laid him down against the cushions. “Right Yev, we can either do this the hard way or the easy way.”

 

Yev played with his feet as Ian shuffled around to find a clean diaper, wiggling around against the the baby-proofed couch that, believe it or not, once had coke stashed between its linings. Finally finding the glory of a diaper, Ian punched it up with victory. “You going to let me put this on you, or you gonna piss on me again?”

 

Ian thought back to the previous morning, Yev had literally pissed everywhere they took him – the highlight of the day was seeing a grumpy, soaked wet through, Mickey grumbling around whilst holding a giggling baby against his side. Ian couldn't stop laughing for hours.

 

The little boy hiccuped to Ian, so he took that as an “okay”, he hoped. Applying the baby-powder, after wiping him down, he secured the diaper around the baby, scrunching his face up in case piss came flying his way. To his surprise Yev must be liking him today, he patted the little boys belly as a sign of relief that he didn't leash a ton of piss his way.

 

“Come on you little turd.” Ian laughed to himself, pulling Yev up against his chest his little arms around his neck. “Or should I say -Lets chuck out _your_ turd.” He knew it was a bad joke, it was confirmed when Yev's little hand swatted against his nose. “Alright. Alright.” Ian chuckled, as he dumped the stinking diaper into a garbage bag outside.

 

Making his way back into the living room, he flicked the television on and planted the little boy in front of it. “Right, lets get you dressed little guy.” When he noticed that Yev hadn't turned around to his voice, he clicked onto the reason why. Mickey's Seagal movie had still been inside of the Tv – to Ian's dismay it looked like Yev liked Seagal _way_ more than he had Van Damme and couple of nights before.

 

“Jesus Christ, you might aswell get yourself some crude tattoo's on your knuckles. God, you two are way too fucking alike.” Shit. He hadn't noticed what he'd been saying and now that was two dollars in the fucking _jar._ He knew he wasn't meant to curse infront of the kid. “Ah shit. Mickey's going to kill me.” he felt himself curse again and now it was a like a machine gun firing off. “Shit – Fuck – Shit – Oh fucking _hell._ Oh my god.” he ducked his head in shame but he automatically perked up at the sound of Yev's laugh coming from the space, infront of the couch.

 

Ian placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “What was I doing again?” Yev tilted his head as Ian did the same. “Clothes, yeh, clothes.” Ian reminded himself and stalked to the other room. Quickly, he rummaged through the pile of clothes that 'Lana had dropped off, and found a pair of baby-black jeans and a small, ninja turtle, t-shirt. Walking back into the other room, clothes over one arm a clean babygrow in the other, he faced a empty, un-Yev room. Shit.

 

“Yev?” He called out scared. His heart had sped up a couple hundred notches. “Hey, little man where you at?” he searched by the couch, on the kitchen floor, in the cupboards, under the table, he had even went outside. But nothing. “Shit.” He muttered to himself. This was so fucking great, he had not only gone and lost their son, but he'd managed to do it in the space of thirty seconds.

 

Just as he complemented screaming, and turning up, the house he heard a quiet giggle. He already knew it was Yev's, because Mickey was adamant that he didn't fucking giggle. ( even though he always did, more than Ian.) Ian traced the sound, pulling up clothes and pillows that could have fallen ontop of the little boy. The sound was coming from his and Mickey's room, and he then noticed that he should of closed the door properly.

 

Pushing the door open he realised Mickey was more of a deeper sleeper than he he'd thought. Mickey was still curled up under the sheets, one of his feet poking out at the end of the bed. Ian shrugged and looked around the room for his wandering son. Recently, after seeing Yev crawl around, the little boy hadn't stopped moving and it was merely impossible to catch him unless you bribe him with a Poptart. “Yev?” he whispered, picking up some clothes and chucking them to the other side of the room when he noticed he wasn't under them.

 

“Is this what we're playing, hide and seek?” He called out again, crawling to the floor and checking underneath the bed. As he scanned past boxes, old beer bottles, ratty shoes – even a condom, which seriously needed to move before Yev thought it was some sort of balloon that turned into a Giraffe, he felt a small hand hit against the top of his hair – plus a snorting giggle.

 

Smiling to himself, he slowly leaned against he knees, noticing the small, moving lump underneath one of Mickey's old shirts. “Hm, where might he be?” Ian played, tapping his chin in pretend thought. Yev laughed again, blabbing some incoherent words. “What's this little lump?” He pulled the t-shirt from over Yev's head, coming face to face with a huge grin, and glimmering blue, balls of light.

 

“You little rascal, you're so sneaky you know that.” Ian scooped the little Milkovich into his arms, tickling his chest whilst planting numerous kissing against his head. “Dada!” Yev pointed to the foot, still hanging off the bed just by them. Ian smirked, but before jumping on the other man, he helped Yev into Mickey's old t-shirt, that drowned him massively – but he still looked fucking adorable.

 

“Let's wake dada, yeh?” Ian spoke toYevgeny, lifting him to his chest and climbing across the bed to the empty spot beside Mickey. Yev scooted himself into the small space between the two men, already starting to pull the blanket that shielded his dad. They both heard Mickey grunt from his fort, but even Ian was helping now. “Dada! Dada!” Yev screamed as he hit the blanket, in the space that was covering Mickey's face.

 

Mickey grunted, purposely, shrugging his cocoon to the other side of the bed trying to ignore the noise around him. Yev had followed, smacking his back with his little fists shouting “Dada!” over and over again. Ian was in a fit of laughter, one hand holding onto Yev's back in case he fell, and the other clutching to his chest.

 

“Motherfucking-

 

Ian slapped Mickey's head, hard, which immediately made Yev want to throw a couple more slaps. “No swearing infront of Yev you _fudgecake_ he's not going to have his first real words being that.” He bit his lip, he really needed some more non-curses in his vocabulary.

 

“Fudgecake? Fuck off Gallagher.” Mickey shot back, receiving a lighter hit this time, but off his son. He grabbed around himself and picked up the little boy, turning on his back and pulling him to his chest. “What you doing, huh? What you doing tough guy.” Yev giggled from his spot, sat on Mickey's chest.

 

“He's telling you that you need to put four dollars in the jar.” Ian pointed out, his palm up towards Mickey as he wiggled his eyebrows. He looked towards his boyfriend and son and just wondered how he got so lucky.

 

“Fuck off.” Mickey smirked, licking his lips towards Ian and his monstrous bed hair. That fucker.

 

“six now, you gonna keep it up?” Ian questioned, ticking under Yev's chin as Mickey continued to bounce him against his chest. It had taken a while but he had got to terms with the parental role he had to take, after arguments after crying – they both knew they had to do what was best for Yev and that was raising him in the most dorkiest, loving, safe environment there could be.

 

This time Mickey flipped him the bird, nodding to himself because he knew they'd agreed that gestures were acceptable. “Why is he wearing my shirt?” The brunette rose an eyebrow in Ian's direction, turning his head for an answer. Yev laid his head down against Mickey's collar, the both of them looking entirely identical.

 

“He's a little you!” Ian sang enthusiastically. “And hey, that top was mine before you got your dirty hands on it.” Which was true, but Mickey wasn't one to admit that sort of thing. Especially when it meant proving himself wrong.

 

“You're such a fucking dork, y'know that?” Mickey smiled, that smile that was so rare but so perfect. He looked towards Ian in admiration, biting his lip as Ian held their eyes in a lock. Mornings like this, was all they needed, but obviously mornings like that weren't made for everyday. Ian liked mornings like this, where he could just sit in bed with his family and not have to worry about stupid fucking pills, or therapy, or the Rub n' tug, if they would eat that night. - all that shit. Sometimes it was good just to stare at your boyfriend and thank the world you got that gun back.

 

It felt like the pause would last forever, well obviously not to Yev. “FUCK! FUCK!” Yev shouted from his lungs, slapping Mickey's bare chest as he sang it out. With wide eyes, nearly popping out of their skulls, they both exchanged annoyed glances at eachother and then back to Yev who wouldn't shut up.

 

“I told you not to swear!” Ian nudged at Mickey's shoulder, picking Yev from his chest and climbing out of the bed. Mickey followed, nearly tripping over toys that happened to be lying around by the side of the bed. “It ain't my fucking fault, everyone curses around here.”

 

“You more than others, Mick.” Ian directed his gaze to Mickey's knuckles, then back up to the blue eyes – that were looking at him with guilt washing over a smirk. Mickey walked over, closing the gap between the two most important people in his life, he stroked his finger against Yev's cheek and then pulled Ian down for a kiss.

“Little guy, it looks like you owe us two dollars.”

Ian butted in then, "And your daddy owes us six." Mickey shot him a glare but paid him anyway, pulling out an extra two dollars. "It's alright short-stop, I'll pay your debt." well, he might aswell start now before the kid hits off to fucking college in a couple of years.

That day, Yev never stopped saying fuck. Ian was scared he would start saying it in his sleep. Mickey just laughed and opened the jar each time Ian mellowed out cursing. They'd be fucking rich by the end of the week.


End file.
